


Felix

by RachelDanna



Category: K (Anime), K Project
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Other, Sceptre4 being family, Special Division Squad, They treat Saruhiko like how Niki should have, birthday fic, happy birthday Saru!, might be a little ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5162777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachelDanna/pseuds/RachelDanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lately, that’s how all his days start out. With a memory he’d rather not remember, the cold seeping into his bones, be it summer, winter, whatever. <br/>It was cold regardless of the season for Saruhiko. </p><p>(Felix is the latin word for happy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Felix

**Author's Note:**

> You can practically FEEL my sceptre4 bias in this fic.

_Happy birthday, Saruhiko!_

Saruhiko awoke to the blaring noise of his alarm, making him grunt and sit up with reluctance. He glared daggers at the object for good measure before slamming his hand down to shut it up. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he swiped his glasses up from where it was placed carefully beside his pillow, putting it on with a click of his tongue.

November 7th. Saruhiko’s birthday. Though the man itself hated the day.

The last images of his dream etched itself into his thoughts, making his face scrunch up in distaste. The memory of Misaki pushing a cupcake as a sorry excuse of a cake in their shared apartment a few years ago was not a memory he liked to recall, especially with the red head gone and out of reach.

The memory of Misaki wishing him a cheery, if not flustered, birthday wish was not appreciated at all. It was a memory for a reason.

Not wanting to be late, he pulled himself out from the confines of his bed, shuddering slightly at the cold that immediately wrapped its arms around him.

Lately, that’s how all his days start out. With a memory he’d rather not remember, the cold seeping into his bones, be it summer, winter, whatever.

It was cold regardless of the season for Saruhiko.

 

Stepping into the special affairs office clad in the uniform he had thankfully tweaked, he faintly registered that the heater had been turned up, warming his already cold fingers since the short walk from the dormitories to the main building. Frowning, he dismissed the small detail as soon as it entered his thoughts. Though he wasn’t going to wax sentimental anytime soon, the warmth was greatly appreciated, welcomed even. He could practically feel his body relaxing.

As he dropped his body onto the chair by his desk, a small grunt leaving his lips, he finally registers the small smile Enomoto had been giving him from the moment he stepped into the room.

“What?” he immediately demanded, to which he responded by hurriedly shuffling away from the third in command, returning to whatever paperwork that he had been assigned for the day. Clicking his tongue, Saruhiko pulled out his PDA, connecting it to his laptop to start the day’s work.

When an hour past noon arrived and the sky decided to grace him by the onslaught of the oh so wonderful presence of snow, his irritation was beyond normal levels. Snow in this part of Japan? This part of the city? In _November?_

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, dragging his eyes away from the window to focus back on his screen. He was _freezing._ The heater wasn’t doing much any longer, and the sudden manifestation of the crystalline ice water wasn’t helping in the least.

Giving up focusing on the monitor, he stood up, shoving his fists in his pockets to hopefully draw out some warmth for them to stop shaking. It was about time for lunch anyway. Most of the members had already left.  He made his way to the coffee machine on the other side of the building, not enjoying the walk but having no other choice, less he return without a cup of hot coffee.

Saruhiko lingered around the area for a few minutes, moving around to get his body to warm up. He _could_ get back to the dorms to retrieve a jacket of some sorts, but that would have him to actually _walk_ in the source of his misery. Clicking his tongue, he refilled his mug with the steaming liquid before making his way back to the office-

-To only find a thick wooly black scarf sitting on top of his laptop.

Saruhiko stared at the fabric, mug in hand, looking like a complete idiot. He glanced around the room, and true enough, not one single person but himself was present. Frowning, he stared at it some more, before sighing, using his freehand to rub at his temples.

Setting the mug down, he brushed his fingers across the cloth, his expression neutral just in case anyone was spying on him. Shaking his head at the silly thought, he settles into his chair, putting the scarf around his neck with a small breath of relief.

If it was a mistake that the scarf was placed there on accident, he wasn’t going to return it. What was that saying? Finders keepers, losers weepers? He snorted at the childish phrase, but he couldn’t help but the small twitch of his lips. It wasn’t as if anyone would see it anyway.

When the rest of the members filled in, along with his own division, he could’ve sworn Goto’s usually calm smile morphed into something akin to _delight_ when he caught sight of his superior _._ Saruhiko was about to call him out on it, but he was pulled away from his thoughts when the blaring of the emergency alarm rang throughout the office. With a click of his tongue, he resisted the urge to groan right there, instead, he fastened his sabre to his hip, and stood up with a scowl, dropping the scarf back into his seat in the process.

Glancing at his squad, already poised and ready, he gave a nod. Together, they left the quiet sounds of the office behind to face whatever situation called for their attention.

 

 

 

The strain was annoying. She was the cause of the early fall of snow, followed by the blizzard that she summoned from out of fucking _nowhere._ Saruhiko scowled, feeling the headache forming at a rapid pace. And yet, he stood at the side, sabre drawn and form composed for an attack that would surely be executed. 

Every nerve in Saruhiko screamed for him to get out from the cold, to get to shelter and to get _warm._ The cold was distracting him, the blizzard blurring the edges of his vision.

But whatever irritation for the cold flowed out of him when the strain decided to attack him _first,_ with a sinister smile on his face, he let that irritation flow through his sabre, striking the woman down before she could even land a hit. Smirking triumphantly, he sheathed his sabre, turning around to walk away lazily, knowing the job was already done.

The lieutenant sighed as she checked the unconscious form of the strain, and with a nod, she turned to look at her subordinate. “Fushimi-kun, your face is red, I have a jacket in the van, please put it on and refrain from being exposed to this blizzard any longer.” Was what she said, blunt and without emotion.

He blinked. He frowned. He clicked his tongue and turned away with a confused expression. That was… strange. It was as if Awashima didn’t want him to overwork himself, which was _very_ strange considering she usually made them _all_ stay until everything was sorted out at the site of the exchange.

He shrugged. Well, it wasn’t like he was complaining.

 

 

When he returned to the office, the place bizarrely empty, he was fully prepared to face the ambush of files that were surely sent in when he was out for the exchange with the headache he was sporting, he was not however, prepared for the packet of painkillers and a glass of hot chocolate to be sitting near the papers he had yet to finish scanning. The scarf he had dropped was folded neatly on his chair. 

He frowned for the umpteenth time that day. Saruhiko came to the conclusion that someone was messing with him for his or her own entertainment.

Scowling, he checked the label on the package of medicine, deeming it safe before swallowing two of the pills down dry. Taking a glance at the hot chocolate, his frown faded off into a blank stare. The only hot chocolate he had allowed himself to drink were the ones that were once made with a scowl on a very bright pink face, the owner of it donning a mop of messy red hair. Saruhiko closed his eyes at the memory, not wanting to relieve that at the moment.

Taking the glass and staring at the contents, he pressed it to his lips, risking a taste. Deciding no one would actually try to poison him in a base filled with cameras.

The moment he got a taste of it, he immediately spat it back out. 

Pulling a face, Saruhiko pulled away quickly, spitting the reminders of the fluid into a tissue before dumping it into the trashcan. He glared at the offending drink, taking it and pushing it far away from his being on one of his coworker’s desk.

He was never touching hot chocolate again.

Choosing to ditch work altogether, he bought a bottle of water from the vending machine, grabbed the scarf and packet of medicine, and made his way out of the building. Braving the cold, he walked through it with the scarf pulled up high on his neck, covering half his face. He regretted not bringing his overcoat to work that day.

When he walked up to his room with the full intention of sleeping, he did not expect to be met with two people guarding his door.

Two people that should really be prepared to hold their own funeral.

“Hidaka, Domyoji, _why_ are you at my door this time at night?” he snapped, his patience long gone after tasting that _horrid_ drink that couldn’t even be classified as _hot chocolate._

Silence.

Saruhiko scowled. “Move.”

“Fushimi-san!” Hidaka exclaimed, holding out his hand to block Saruhiko to move into the room. Saruhiko froze, frowning at his subordinate. Faintly, he could make out Domyoji muttering something like, ‘ _You idiot, that was a delayed reaction!’_

“… This is my own room.”

“You can’t enter!”

“… Move." 

“Fushimi-san!"

Pushing the two people aside before they could throw both their weights onto him, Saruhiko turned the knob, knocking himself into the room with how hard Hidaka and Domyoji were pushing, straight into someone’s back.

Grunting, he pulled himself off, and glanced at the person he had bumped into. “Sorry.” He muttered. _Wait, why was he apologizing? This was his own damn room._

Scowling, he steeled himself to snap at whoever the hell thought it was a good idea to barge into his room on a perfectly freezing workday with-

He paused. He could not believe his eyes. There were a total of _eight_ people in the room, Hidaka and Domyoji included. Saruhiko could feel a vein popping.

“… What the fuck.”

You really couldn’t blame him for his words at that point.

“F-Fushimi-san!” Akiyama was the first to break yet another silence that fell on them. Saruhiko turned to glare at him, before looking at the rest of the people in his room.

His whole damn squad.

“Fuse.” He clicked his tongue, turning to the man, “You like me the _least,_ what the _fuck_ are you doing here?” he sighed, setting his sabre against the bed.

“A-Ah, you see…”

Silence. Again.

By this point Saruhiko was prepared to sleep out in the hallway. Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, Benzai presented him with an average sized plain box, smile a little forced, no doubt from the unsettling atmosphere.

“All of us chipped in for that!” Goto piped in, a smile on his face, seemingly unaffected by the tense bodies of his friends. Saruhiko raised an eyebrow, annoyed, but a little curious now. “Why would you people even get me something?" 

Pulling off the cover of the box, he blinked at the content, his expression shifted to a neutral one, making the people in the room shuffle around nervously. “We noticed that you’re the type of person to get cold regardless of the season.” Camo decided to speak up, poking Domyoji’s side.

“R-Right!” the red head squeaked, blushing at the sound he made before clearing his throat. “It was Akiyama’s idea, we saw it when we were walking back from the cherry blossom viewing a few months ago. The one captain held?”

“That was during _spring,_ we’re on the verge of _winter._ How did you even manage to get this?” Saruhiko mumbled, taking the jacket out of the box, gripping the fabric in his hands in disbelief.

“I called in some favours.” Hidaka laughed meekly, “The owner of the place allowed us an installment plan.”

Saruhiko looked up to them, a frown on his face. He hesitated with his words, feeling like he was a child again, well, as much as a child he was. “…. Why?” he managed eventually.

“Because,” Akiyama started, pulling the scarf from Saruhiko’s neck so his full face was now revealed, “It’s your birthday.” He smiled, pushing Saruhiko through the other seven people in the small room, stopping at his desk.

“Happy birthday, Fushimi-san.” Akiyama smiled, the hair that covered his one eye shifting slightly as he leaned forward to light the single candle on the cake that now sat on his cleared desk.

“Fuse and I made that.” Camo stated proudly, though Fuse immediately started denying it. “I-I just helped! That’s all!” he yelled, stuttering over his own words.

Saruhiko ignored him, choosing instead to stare at the cake. He hated pastries, though a _cake. A birthday cake._ He hadn’t had one in so long. Not even when he was with Misaki. They couldn’t afford one at that time.

He stared at the melting candle, and turned back around to face his squad. “… I’m not blowing that out.” He said at last, making them blink at him in shock.

Hidaka was the first to start laughing. His laughter seemed to break the tension in the room, and no sooner, Enomoto had leaned over to blow it out instead. “that’s okay.” He smiles; adjusting his glasses slightly, “It’s the thought that counts.”

“Aren’t you supposed to make a wish though?” Benzai frowned, turning to take a knife out from who knows where to cut the cake.

“I don’t care.” Saruhiko grunted, turning away to hide his flustered self.

Then, it clicked.

“The heater… the scarf….painkillers” He trailed off, silencing them all once more. Saruhiko fidgeted, feeling the ends of the scarf where it hung off loosely on his shoulder. “Tsk.. that was all of you?”

Akiyama shrugged, “We noticed you get especially cold in the winter. So we tried to change things up a little.” He winced, “Though that strain incident didn’t really help.”

Fuse snorted, “At least the lieutenant got the hint of what we were trying to do.” He muttered, turning away again when Saruhiko’s eyes rested on him.

“Tatsuya was the one that fixed the heater!” Domyoji grinned, resting a hand on Enomoto’s shoulder, said male smiled. “It was the least I could do for Fushimi-san.”

“The scarf was mine.” Goto piped up somewhere behind him, seeming to already cut the cake and was in the process of putting them on plates. “When you went out to get coffee, I was actually still there, though I think you couldn’t see me, I was in the corner of the room trying to fix the copy machine. Noticed you were shivering, so when you left, I took the scarf from my bag and left it on your laptop.” He grinned.

“I bought a packet of painkillers from the pharmacy when I noticed you wincing in the middle of battle today.” Camo muttered.

Saruhiko frowned, huffing a little before plopping down on the bottom bunk of his bed. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“You could start by saying thank you.” Fuse snorts, earning a jab at his side from Hidaka.

The room fell into silence once more, and before the situation could get any worse, he fixed them all with a hard glare, clicking his tongue to hide his embarrassment. “Eat the cake. It’s getting late, and I want to sleep. All of _you_ need to sleep.” He muttered.

_Thank you._

The silent message could be heard all too well, and he could catch sight of Akiyama’s smile throughout the night.

If the small smile Saruhiko himself adorned for the rest of the night said anything, maybe birthdays weren’t so bad after all.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Omake! : 
> 
> "Who left the hot chocolate on my desk?" 
> 
> ".... Hot chocolate...?" 
> 
> "It was disgusting." 
> 
> "Ah! I saw captain putting down a glass on your desk, Fushimi-san! Maybe he was the one?" 
> 
> "...."
> 
> ".. is something wrong?" 
> 
> "I am never consuming anything that man offers me ever again." 
> 
> ".... Fushimi-san?"


End file.
